Foregone Conclusion
by inconsistentlypresent
Summary: Calypso is still a goddess, after all. (Not a happy ending.)


Reyna fixes her baggy t-shirt so that it covers her knees. She's in such an undignified state that she ought to feel embarrassed, but Reyna finds that she doesn't care so much, when it's such a bright perfect morning.

Calypso is yawning, tangling her fingers through caramel hair in an attempt to braid it, as she sits, slumped over, at the table. It's funny, how human she acts sometimes, despite being a goddess.

Reyna's place isn't special. One would think that she'd have fancy quarters as praetor, but she doesn't. But her kitchen is still pretty nice. There are windows, but they don't face east, so sunlight doesn't hurt Reyna's eyes in the morning. A large marble countertop separates the dining table from the actual kitchen, which has a boxy old refrigerator and lots of shiny white cabinets.

It's all very good, and Reyna initially meant to make pancakes, but now, she searches and realizes she doesn't have any mix.

"Sorry," she calls to Calypso over her shoulder. "I don't think I can make them."

"Can't make what?"

Reyna turns around to explain, but stops when she sees the table. There are two plates with huge stacks of golden pancakes, drizzled with maple syrup and whipped cream. Calypso picks up a ripe scarlet strawberry, dipped in chocolate syrup, then offers it to Reyna. There's an amused grin on her face.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" Reyna asks, walking around the counter to join Calypso at the table.

"You're cute in the morning," Calypso says with a smile. "And that shirt suits you. I was distracted."

Reyna rolls her eyes and tries to smile back. The shirt just says Camp Jupiter - it's purple and wrinkly and there's nothing special about it. For the millionth time, Reyna wonders why a goddess is bothering to date her. And what people would think of her if they knew.

Reyna snaps out of her thoughts. "Stop thinking," Calypso chides. It feels as though her eyes are tugging at Reyna's heart, trying to draw something from them.

In response, words seem to spring from her chest, traveling upwards to reverberate through Reyna's head. Gods. She loves Calypso. Loves the way her smile spreads across her face like a dove's wings; loves the way she makes Reyna feel important as only herself. She loves when Calypso does what she's doing now - looks at Reyna as though she's enough.

Yet somehow, Reyna can't bring herself to say express these ridiculous, sappy thoughts. To say those words. They're too permanent. Too depended on and too easily said. Instead - it's blunt but it's true - she says, "Your hair is a mess."

* * *

Reyna's moved. After retiring from praetorship, she's been living in a quiet neighborhood in New Rome. She has a big luxurious house, with two guest bedrooms and three stories. Reyna has a choice between three bathrooms every time she washes her hands.

It's incredibly lonely.

Even Frank - whom Reyna grew closer to during her praetorship - hardly ever stops by. That shouldn't disappoint Reyna. After all, he hasn't retired, and he's just doing what she used to do - work work work, and for what?

Today she's sitting in her living room - where there is one comfortable green sofa and all other furniture is tan and stiff. But Reyna hasn't felt motivated yet to go out and buy furniture to replace what came with the house. Besides, she would feel ungrateful. It was all a gift, after all.

Instead, Reyna has taken up knitting. She never knew anything about it, but lately she's been in need of something to occupy herself. So she slowly, meticulously attempts to knit a scarf from the blue yarn she bought last week. She's still clumsy at it, and she hopes she'll get better soon, or else this scarf will be completed when she's thirty-five.

Her knitting needles clack. The sound is muted by the fuzzy checkered rug covering the hardwood floor. Engrossed in her work, Reyna feels a sort of peace wash over her that she hasn't felt in a long time.

Then a small burst of light explodes into her living room, and Reyna nearly drops a stitch when Calypso appears, standing four feet away from her.

It's uncanny, Reyna has thought several times, how little gods change. Calypso looks the same, with long effortless caramel hair and smooth tan skin. It's like looking at the past, knowing that she can never go back.

Reyna sets aside her knitting. Her heart is racing and she resists the urge to clutch her chest and swoon at Calypso's feet. Now, that's really sad. "Calypso, what are you doing here?"

Calypso is doing that thing she does when she's nervous - rubs her wrists and avoids Reyna's eyes. "I - your hair! I mean - your hair looks nice."

Reyna instinctively reaches up to touch it. It's short now, just under her ears. "Thank you," she says, feeling her face heat up. Gods, she's pathetic, isn't she. Trying to stay on task, she says once more, "But why are you here?"

"I just wanted to see you," Calypso finally says. At Reyna's incredulous look, she says, "Is that so hard to believe? When I was with you, it was the best part of my life. I wasn't in Ogygia, and I wasn't all alone up _there_." She points upwards. "I - I missed you."

Reyna shakes her head, mouth dry. "Oh, no, no - this isn't happening."

Calypso starts pacing. "Reyna, I've told you before. I could make you immortal, and we could be together forever. We broke up because I'm a goddess, but if you're one as well -"

"No," Reyna cuts in. She's been afraid for a long time that this is the wrong choice, but at the same time she feels so sure. Even surer than she did when they first talked about this four years ago. "Calypso, I couldn't."

Calypso frowns, suddenly withdrawn, and stops pacing to turn accusingly at Reyna. "This is because people found out, isn't it," she says sharply. "They put ideas in your head, that I was going to be like all those other gods, and forget you."

"They introduced me to the idea," Reyna admits, "but I thought about it, and it made sense. I don't want to be immortal. And I don't want you to grow bored of me and then start producing demigods behind my back. I deserve better than that."

"Of course. And I would never do that to you," Calypso says, with wide earnest eyes.

Reyna is tempted to believe her. How easy would it be, to simply accept Calypso's offer? To spend a few blissful decades with Calypso up on Olympus. But no. it wouldn't end well. Reyna recalls the story of Bacchus and Ariadne. Piper was the one to remind her of it, after Reyna told her about Calypso.

 _"Dionysus said he loved her," Piper said emphatically. "He turned her into a goddess, they were happy for a while. Then what do you think happened? You already know - you've seen his children. The gods might mean well, but you can't trust them to love you."_

"My answer's no," Reyna repeats.

"Reyna - I miss you," Calypso says. Then, suddenly, she adds, "And I know you miss me too! You're trying to hide it, but I can sense it. I can - I can see it in your eyes. _Reyna._ "

Desperation doesn't suit her.

Reyna can't bring herself to lie. "I know," she says, "but it doesn't change anything."

"How can I make you understand?" Calypso says. The way she looks now reminds Reyna of when Reyna first told her that she didn't think this was a good idea. The hurt, the anger, and the hint of darkness that, in Reyna's experience every immortal possessed. And presumably, it's how she looked thousands of years ago, begging a hero to stay with her on her isolated prison.

But Reyna is not the same person she was back then. She doesn't believe that Calypso is somehow different from the other gods in that respect, not anymore. "Understand this," she says, "Your place is on Olympus, and my place is here. To suppose otherwise is to tempt Fate."

For a second Calypso's face is drawn, and Reyna feels nervous. Calypso could definitely curse Reyna, or hurt her in some other way. So Reyna braces herself, though she finds that she can't do it with honest effort.

Because she knows, probably better than anyone, it's not in Calypso's nature to do that. She's a sweet and understanding _person_ , willing to listen to Reyna practice speeches, or sing her to sleep. That's why Reyna loved her - loves her.

"I thought you would say something like that," Calypso says, after a beat. "If you do change your mind -"

"Don't." Reyna sits back down, praying that Calypso will leave now, before things become worse.

And Calypso must have been listening, because without another word, she disappears in a shower of golden light. And Reyna's left alone, but relieved.

* * *

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